


Blood

by JerseyGirl



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Blood Kink, Bloodplay, Captivity, Cutting, Dreams and Nightmares, Established Relationship, Healing, Love, M/M, Painplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-15 10:46:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3444269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JerseyGirl/pseuds/JerseyGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something happened early on in Five-0's existence. Something Steve never told anyone. And now, it's haunting him.</p>
<p>Warning: Depicts blood/knifeplay between two characters so go to the next story if you don't want to see it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Torment

**Author's Note:**

> Another moment of me being weird. I do not know where this stuff comes from. This may not be everyone's cup of tea. You've been warned!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's a tormented soul.

A shiny silver blade, reflecting candlelight, bringing points of light to the dark walls that had seen more than their share of horror. Ice cold, pressing into the skin of his back, just beneath his shoulder blade. He heard the whisper of it cutting into him and then came the pain, radiating outward from the cut, from each millimeter further it went.

It made him feel alive.

Hissed air through his teeth, body on fire, barely able to contain the moan of agonizing pleasure that begged for release. Then the blade was gone and for a moment it was only the sting of the air on the open wound. Contact again, this time in the form of a hot, wet mouth. Lips kissed the top of the cut, then a tongue started at the bottom of it and licked upward.

He knew there was blood; there was always so much blood from the little capillaries just beneath the skin. He could imagine that tongue smearing it over the smooth skin of his tanned back. It would dry there and when he stretched it would flake away to the floor, forgotten and yet a reminder of what had caused it to be there.

The mouth and tongue stopped and before he could anticipate, teeth sank into the flesh on either side of the gash, pulling the two sides together yet still tearing them apart. The exquisite sensations shot straight to his groin and he moved against the hard metal table as the teeth left him.

“There,” a deep and accented voice purred.

He knew the man better almost than he knew himself. But these past four weeks had taught him that while he should still be afraid of the one who in a sick, twisted way had turned out to be his brother, there was something now that brought an even greater fear than that. It brought great pleasure and great shame. Because after those four weeks, he wanted it. He needed it. He liked it. He loved it.

“Now you may go, and each time you see my marks upon your flesh, remember, Steve.”

With a swish of fabric, his tormentor was gone. He rolled onto his back, sighing in both regret and anticipation. Yes, he had become something he'd never dreamed possible in this time as a slave to Wo Fat’s desires. But today he was returning to the ones he loved most of all. When he slid from the table and turned to look down at it, the red smear left behind caused a shiver to run through his body.

He reached out, ran his finger through it and brought it to his lips, even as someone appeared behind him and he felt the warmth of a wet cloth washing away reminders of this last time. Then the familiar sensation of a healing agent being applied, and then clothing was brought to him by a young black woman he didn’t recognize. She bowed, holding the fabric out toward him with palms upraised, her eyes never leaving the floor.

None of his exercise exertions or meditative states during captivity had served to rid him of that which Wo Fat had awakened deep inside his soul. Or, perhaps, had forced upon him in his weakness. He didn't know how he was going to quell this need to feel infliction of pain, but Wo Fat had told him it was time for him to leave. Yet he knew, as his ‘brother’ had rightfully said, that each time he looked at his body in the mirror, he would be reminded of it all. The feel of the knife...the feel of another's teeth sinking into his flesh...how the pain made him tremble with a need that Wo Fat had refused to fulfill. How blood...the one thing Wo Fat had given him...had become a flavor he could no longer deny he craved.

Shorts, shirt and slippers were on. A helicopter waited outside to take him back to Honolulu. From there he would contact Danny, Chin and Kono, and there would be many, many questions to answer. But for Steve McGarrett, that part of things was already handled; he'd dreamed up a story they would all believe; a story about being called on a super top secret SEAL mission that he couldn’t tell anyone about. The only lingering doubt he had as he strode confidently out of the compound into the mid-day heat of Molokai, was controlling this need for pain.

But he would. Somehow, in some way. He had no choice.

* * *

He gasped for breath, the inhalation so loud it deafened him. Sitting bolt upright in bed, sweat streaming down his temples, soaking into the fabric of his cotton tee shirt there in the balmy night air of his bedroom.

He looked down at the blond head on the pillow next to his. At the piercing blue eyes that the full moonlight streaming in through the balcony doors illuminated like Danny was some kind of unearthly creature lit from the inside.

“More nightmares,” Danny said matter-of-factly, a hand reaching out to trace the curve of Steve’s left knee.

“Yeah,” Steve responded, running a hand through his damp hair, shaking his head. Sighing. “Sorry to wake you.”

“C’mere, idiot,” Danny whispered, pulling a reluctant, sweaty, hot, unsettled much-taller man into his embrace. “What was it this time, mm?”

Steve shuddered.

“The cutting again.”

Steve nodded. How well his lover knew him.

How embarrassing that he did.

“If you’d only told us about it back when it happened,” Danny chided gently as he had the first time Steve had confessed that this particular nightmare was based on reality.

The fact that he’d put a bullet in Wo Fat’s head not four months earlier, had brought these memories back like a freight train. If not for Danny’s love and support, Steve knew he would’ve lost his shit, no matter how well the military had trained him to compartmentalize.

Chin and Kono didn’t know that this had been what had actually happened the third time Steve had – supposedly – gotten recalled to active duty. Danny had agreed they wouldn’t need to know so long as it didn’t affect Steve’s performance as task force leader.

Which it hadn’t. Yet.

“Babe, we gotta make this stop. That’s the fourth time this week and the lack of sleep’s starting to wear on us both.”

Steve pulled away, back to his side of the bed. “I can’t talk to anyone about this, Danny.”

“You talked to me.”

“That’s different,” Steve pouted, pushing himself up to the head of the bed and drawing his knees up to hold them tightly against his chest. “Don’t force me on this.”

“Don’t make it necessary.”

Steve looked at him. What could he say? What could he do?

Danny closed his eyes. “Sleep, babe. We gotta get up in three hours.”

“Yeah,” Steve acknowledged.

He waited until his partner snurfled softly, telling him Danny was indeed back to sleep, then carefully got out of bed, threw on his swim trunks and headed downstairs.

He’d swim it out.

And when Danny woke Steve would be back to just fine.

Until the next dream. Nightmare. Memory.

Steve looked down at his legs. At his arms. His abs.

The scars basically couldn’t be seen now unless you used a 100x zoom lens. Danny had found a few upon meticulous inspection.

Steve reached the back yard. Looked up at the second floor of the house. Turned away because he could have just said it tonight…but hadn’t wanted to give voice to what he craved.

What he knew Danny would never do.

What he needed.

What he wanted.

He had a bloodlust now. A kink. A desire. And Wo Fat’s death, contrary to what Steve had been hoping, had done nothing to end it. In fact, it seemed to have made him want it more.

Steve ran into the water and plunged below its surface.

He’d let the water wash it away.

Even though it was always only a temporary reprieve.


	2. Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny tries. Steve heals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to gem1n12505 asking for more, and tamarah71's echoing it well, there is now and it's all your fault. Your comments and questions suddenly sparked a second chapter so here you go...I hope you enjoy it.

_Want_.

And all Danny had done, was pull a steak knife out of the block on the kitchen counter.

Steve felt his breaths become no more than tiny pants, puffs of air like he’d once heard an overheated Chihuahua doing from the front seat of a car on a hot summer day.

Light glinted off the stainless steel blade. It moved nearer.

He stopped panting. Stopped _breathing_.

It seemed to be speaking to him. _Is this what you want?_

 _Yes_.

So much pain in his life. So much he had seen. Done. So much to handle. Live through. Torture. Torment. Nightmares. Agony. Sadness.

And he’d learned, at the hands of a ruthless killer raised by his own mother, that the only way to release the pain was through more pain.

His lover’s touch stilled his heart, but not his mind.

His lover.

Steve’s eyes flicked up to meet Danny’s.

Danny stopped only two feet away, the knife held in front of him like a tantalizing treat. If he was a good boy, he’d get it, like Danny offering Grace a new tablet if she maintained straight A’s while she trained with Kono for an upcoming Young Surfers of Hawai’i competition.

His thoughts twisted, then, spiraling out of control. How could he compare wanting to be sliced open with a _knife_ to the beautiful perfection of Danny’s precious daughter?

Shame filled him, heating his chest and face. Making him turn away. He felt grief well up within him. Felt fear clutching at his heart, bony hands grasping, squeezing, Wo Fat reaching out from beyond the grave to continue the hold he’d had over Steve since his return to O’ahu.

Danny was right. This was so far beyond unhealthy it bordered on insane.

It _was_ insane.

And yet…

Another flash of light. The knife, right there, now. Right in front of his face, eye-level with where he sat at the kitchen table.

The hand that held it, gun-calloused and small. The hand that held it, gentle. Steve had always been in awe of Danny’s hands. Of how they had their own language, a supplemental guide to understanding Daniel Williams’ words. Hands that said so much. Things that Danny’s ever-present babbling would never say. Hands that, if you were lucky enough to learn the language, to unravel the secrets their owner would never tell you, could show you pleasures beyond any Steve had ever experienced before submitting to their magic in bed.

A gentle caress to his cheek.

A soft glide of blunt nails across his bare shoulder as he sat there shirtless, dripping from his recent swim.

No tirade about being raised in a barn, about having to clean up after his oaf of a partner yet again.

Just touches.

A thumb tracing his lower lip.

The backs of fingers stroking up his jaw.

Left hand putting the knife down on the table, but Steve didn’t see it, as the right hand fisted beneath his chin and forced him to look up into sparkling blue eyes that held infinite love…infinite hope…tinged with pain for him.

Because of him.

Steve’s eyes tried to cast downward.

The hand kept his chin in place.

Dry lips, chastely brushing against his.

Steve began to breathe again.

“Let me show you,” Danny whispered into his ear, fingers now running through Steve’s short-cropped hair, “a healing touch.”

Steve squeezed his eyes shut.

No amount of Danny’s touches had ever been able to quench the thirst for blood…for pain…that murdering Wo Fat had reawakened in Steve.

He knew Danny desperately wanted to help. Knew he had to let him try.

Knew it wouldn’t work.

Grieved for the fact that putting an end to a killer’s life may have put an end to the best thing that’d ever happened to him in his.

“Danny.” A choked sob, wrenched from his gut.

Oh, how he wanted his Danny to heal him.

His arms wrapped around the shorter, smaller, but so-strong man, who had stepped between the V of his legs.

“Danny,” Steve cried, feeling tears pouring from his eyes, down his cheeks, splashing to the floor and his legs, and onto Danny’s bare feet.

And then…

He hissed.

 _Pain_.

A slice along the base of his neck.

“Shhhh.”

His breath hitched. He held it.

Fingers pinching the wound.

Air whooshed from his lungs.

The swipe of a finger.

That finger suddenly at Steve’s lips.

 _Blood_.

He looked up through wet lashes, Danny’s eyes capturing and holding his. Finger moving between his lips.

 _Blood_.

His eyes closed.

He sagged forward into Danny even as his lips closed around Danny’s finger.

Another prick of pain. Feeling…almost _hearing_ …the blade cut his flesh.

“I’ve got you, Steven.”

The tension uncoiled from the base of his spine, forcing an involuntary shiver as Danny stepped away, moved around behind him, leaned down and kissed the skin near the cuts.

Hot, wet tongue pressing down.

Licking along one cut.

Then the other.

Steve was rock-hard in an instant.

“Do what you need to do,” whispered in his ear.

But Steve didn’t know what to do. Wo Fat had never given him a way to release sexually. He’d always left him to his own fist for that.

“What do you need?” Danny asked.

Steve heard him put the knife down on the table. He spun in the chair, hand curling around Danny’s neck, pulling him into a searing kiss that was all tongue and spit and teeth and no finesse.

Pulling away with an audible pop, Steve pressed their foreheads together.

“You,” he replied.

Danny grabbed his hands, pulled him from the chair. Steve saw the silver blade of the knife lying there so innocently.

Realized what his need had made the man who loved him, accepted him, took care of him…the man that meant more to him than another other living soul, do.

What Wo Fat was still doing. The legacy he’d left.

“No,” Steve breathed, eyes glued to the knife.

Flashes of Wo Fat’s terrible smile as he’d stare at Steve standing there, fully exposed, his dick hard, cuts on his chest and arms oozing.

“Babe?”

Hands and ankles shackled to the Saint Andrew’s Cross, unable to get away as Wo Fat’s mouth drew nearer. Lips, tongue, caressing, laving, biting. Leaving marks. Always leaving marks. From knives. From his teeth.

“Steve.”

Steve’s hands balled into fists at his sides even as Danny whispered his name.

“Look at me.”

Steve opened his eyes, looked down. His lower lip trembled. His eyes filled with fresh tears.

The knife mocked him from the tabletop.

Wo Fat mocked him from Hell.

“No!” Steve spat, barely-controlled rage make his body shake.

Danny backed away.

Steve felt those days, weeks, come back and hit him with the brute force of a freight train and it built and built and coiled and uncoiled and with a force he hadn’t used since the last life-and-death hand-to-hand fight he’d been in he whirled, grabbed the knife, squeezed it, turned and threw it.

A dull thud.

Half the blade embedded in the wall.

Blood running down from the blade, a single large drop.

The wall bleeds?

“Oh, babe.”

Soft exclamation.

Steve felt pain in his hand. Looked down.

He’d squeezed the blade so hard he’d cut into all four fingers of his right hand.

The blood now traveling down the wall from the knife, was his own.

Or Wo Fat’s.

He heard Danny fetch ice from the freezer.

Turning the blade on the man who’d created this need.

Heard Danny open a drawer for a towel.

The man who’d fostered this sick, twisted desire.

Felt Danny carefully wrap his hand.

Watched the drop of blood get halfway down the six feet to the floor.

Watched it stop.

Felt the cold of the ice against his fingers.

Stared at the drop of blood on the wall.

_Wo Fat’s dead._

_Can’t hurt you._

Turned to look at Danny’s sad, yet hopeful, eyes.

_Don’t let him continue to torment you._

Saw the love shining up at him.

_Don’t let him make Danny do this._

Not Danny.

_How did you know what to?_

How did Danny always know what to do?

Always so loving.

_Saving me again._

Sweet touches.

_How could I have wanted you to do this?_

Soft caresses. “I love you, Steven. Even the parts of yourself that you can’t love.”

 _Let it go_.

And Steve did, his breath hitching at Danny’s words.

Right then.

Right there.

 _It's over_.

As Danny kissed him back to himself.

“I love you, Danny.”

As Danny made the last vestiges of Wo Fat’s mind games disappear.

Dripping down.

And dying.

Steve breathed. For the first time since putting a bullet between Wo Fat’s eyes, he _breathed_.

And when Danny had quietly led him up to bed, doctored his fingers to his satisfaction, cleaned and bandaged the two small cuts he’d made to his back, and let Steve curl against him in their bed, he slept the whole night through.

Safe.

Healed.

Danny.


End file.
